


haunted by the ghost of you

by bluesunflower44



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, BAMF Katara, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Heavy Angst, Mild Language, Which is Understandable, but no aang hate, but she also cries a lot, but the ending won't make you hate me, extremely sad and angsty, failed aang/katara, from hindu mythology, no promises, probably, there's like half a second of fluff, very VERY loosely based on the story of Savitri, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 18:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesunflower44/pseuds/bluesunflower44
Summary: Why is it only her? Is that a blessing or a curse?A story in which Katara does not take 'no' for an answer.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67





	haunted by the ghost of you

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or The Night We Met, from whence the title comes.  
> Musical Suggestions: [The Night We Met](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtlgYxa6BMU) and [Dancing With Your Ghost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qzc_aX8c8g4)  
> The first time you see two dividers, we're switching from present to past. The second time, we're switching from past back to present.

"Are you sure this wedding will make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"I don't- no!"

"Then why are you going through with it?"

"Well, what do you propose I do?"

"Whatever makes you happy," he says, shrugging one shoulder.

"It's not that easy, Zuko! How am I supposed to know what would make me happy when-"

"When what?"

"When you're not even here!"

"I am too here," and he smiles _that_ crooked smile. "And what difference does that make anyway?"

"It makes all the difference. Because now I'm stuck always wondering if...if..."

"Out with it, waterbender."

"If you would've made me happy."

Zuko's smile fades. Katara's not even sure why she said that. A large part of her feels weird that she said it to Zuko while he was in his 16-year-old form. Another part of her hates that she said it to a ghost.

"I- I didn't mean it, Zuko, really-" but he's already changing forms and now he's 24, the age he _should_ have been this year, but isn't. Because of her. And he's looking down at her with an expression full of pure affection.

"I would have, Katara. I would have." The absolute certainty with which he says that, and the pang in her heart that tells her she agrees with him, is too overwhelming. Her face crumples and she's running out of her bedroom before she can register that her feet are even moving.

"Katara? Where are you going?" She can't stop running just to answer a spirit that may or may not be a hallucination, so she doesn't. She sprints blindly through the reconstructed Southern Air Temple until she literally runs into Aang's chest. His arms are already holding her elbows and there's concern filling his large grey eyes.

"Is everything alright, Katara? Are you- why are you crying?"

She shakes her head and tries to choke the words out.

"I can't do this. I'm sorry, Aang, but I can't. I won't-" He interrupts her barely coherent rambling.

"Whoa there, Katara. It's okay, sweetie." He tries to wipe away the salty water on her face, but she shakes her head again and takes three steps backward, away from him. She can now see Zuko out of the corner of her eye, through the blur of her tears. He stands there, still 24, silent and unmoving. He's staring at her with an expression she can't decipher from here. She refocuses on Aang and tries to gather her thoughts.

"Aang. Aang, I am so sorry. But I can’t, I _cannot_ , I can’t marry you.” The monk’s eyebrows knit together and he doesn’t look upset, just confused.

“Wait, you mean in two days? That’s fine, honey, I don’t think your dad was going to reach on time anyway. We can push it-”

“No. Aang, I mean I cannot marry you. Not two days from now, not a week from now, not ever. It’s...it’s just not right.”

“Katara, what? What are you talking about? Oh wait, Suki told me about this! Wedding jitters or something like that, right? It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. It’ll be perf-”

“No! You’re not listening, Aang! I don’t- I don’t love you in the way I should and it’s unfair to both of us if we get married. You deserve better than this-”

“You’re the best, how could you ever think I des-”

“Well, maybe I deserve better too!” Aang looks like she’s physically punched him, and from the way he staggers back, she may as well have.

“What do you- am I not good enough for you? Did I do something?” She shakes her head once more.

“No. You didn’t. I’m just...I’m sorry.” 

Every brain cell is singing loudly, and her heart is beating in a rhythm that does not align. Her head is telling her she’s wrong, she should take it back, she should apologize, can’t she see how she’s hurting Aang, how is she leaving him for an apparition who can never be hers? Her heart is chanting that she’s finally done something right, she should have done it a long time ago, she needs to leave this very minute, she needs to do whatever makes her happy.

“Why, Katara?” He sounds so childlike, so confused. Of course he does. She doesn’t even understand herself right now, so how could he? She leaves the question unanswered as she heads back to her room to pack her things. She doesn’t check to see if Aang is following her. She knows Zuko is.

* * *

* * *

The first time she sees him, she’s 14. It’s been one day since the coronation. Four days since the funeral. Ten days since Ozai’s bending was taken away and the world was saved. Ten days since Azula sent lightning towards her brother - no, towards _Katara_ \- and Zuko was struck in the chest.

Katara is sitting on her bed in the room Iroh has declared as hers for whenever she visits the Fire Nation. Her hands are outstretched in front of her, palms facing the ceiling as if they each hold a different future. She studies them carefully and moves her hands like a balance as she considers the advantages and disadvantages of each choice she has. In one hand, she holds the future where she jumps on Appa’s back and hops from village to village with Aang. In the other hand is the option where she returns to the Southern Water Tribe with Sokka and gives all her energy to rebuilding her home. (Fire Lord Iroh had practically begged her to consider a third path - one where she stays in the Fire Nation as an advisor and ambassador. One where she helps Azula heal and meets with ordinary Fire Nation people, learning how their country can serve them better. One where she’d constantly be suffocated by the colors and home of her best friend, who gave up his life for her. She refused to even think about it.) Her mind is nearly made up, but she wants to make sure she isn’t missing anything important.

Suddenly, two pale hands are floating just a hair’s width above hers. Her eyes widen and she scrambles back on the large bed. She knows those hands. She knows the arms they’re attached to and the broad shoulders they’re controlled by. Still, when she meets his eyes she gasps.

“Zu-Zuko?” That’s not possible. It doesn’t make any sense. How is he standing at the foot of her bed? He shoots her the brightest smile she’s ever seen on his face. And that’s how she knows it must be a hallucination, for the angst-filled teenager she knew would never grin that wide. Nevertheless, she crawls over to him and pokes his chest. Or, she tries to, but her finger just ends up going through the tunic and it doesn’t hit anything. She retracts her arm and breathes a sigh of relief. Wait, why is she feeling relieved? Because she’s seeing things, and her friend _hasn’t_ come back to life? Oh La, she’s lost it, hasn’t she? They’re going to throw her in with Azula now!

“What’s going on in your head?”

“AAH!” She throws herself away from him again. His voice sounds just like it did ten days ago. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was actually him speaking. His forehead scrunches up.

“What’s wrong, Katara? Everything alright?”

“Everything alright? Everything alright? Are you out of your mind?” Is she? She’s the one talking to a sleep-deprivation induced vision, after all. “No, everything’s not alright! You’re dead! Dead, Zuko! You know what that means? It means you’re no longer alive! You don’t breathe anymore!” He’s nodding along like she’s some wisened sage, when she knows full well she’s babbling stupidly.

“That’s true.”

“That’s true? Of course it’s true! I went to your funeral four days ago, you know that?”

“Four days ago...oh. That makes a lot of sense.”

“What the hell? Nothing makes sense! I’m talking to a hallucination!”

At this, he looks offended. “Hey! I’m not a hallucination!” She blinks at him. “I’m not! I’m a spirit. And I’ve just been kind of floating around for four days now. I didn’t think anyone could see me.”

Katara is silent for a few minutes, just staring at the mirage of Zuko that shimmers just slightly. “This is ridiculous. I have the worst coping mechanisms in the world.” Zuko’s face softens and he leans forward.

“Katara. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you-”

“BUT YOU DID!” And then, in a much quieter voice, “how could you? Why would you jump in front of the lightning? You were supposed to be the Fire Lord and help the world. Not die at the age of sixteen for some random waterbender. It should’ve been me.”

He reaches out to hold her shoulders, but his fingers go right through them, so he hangs his hands at his side instead. “Never say that, Katara. Uncle will be a much better Fire Lord than I could ever hope to be. And you’re not some random waterbender. You will heal and help the world. You’re one of the most important people. Especially to me. There was no way I could let you die. If I could go back to that moment, I wouldn’t change a thing.” She pulls her knees to her chest and curls inward.

She starts to sob, and almost immediately, she feels an unnatural warmth surrounding her. When she looks up after a few moments, Zuko’s tunic is filling her vision. _He must be trying to hug me._ Indeed, when she tilts her head up, Zuko is looking at her with worry and sadness. She tries to put her arms around him, but when that inevitably fails, she falls apart. 

* * *

A day has passed since the hallucination of Zuko first showed up (she’s still not totally convinced he’s a spirit and not a figment of her grieving imagination), so she’s speaking to her friends about the predicament.

“Guys? I’vebeenseeingZuko’sghostandIneedtoknowifyoucantoo.”

“Were we supposed to understand anything you just said, Sweetness?” Katara looks at Toph and sees right through the tough girl facade. Since Zuko passed away, Toph has seemed ready to crumble at any moment. Everyone in Team Avatar has, actually. It scares Katara. They hadn’t known him as a friend for that long, but he had still left an irrevocable mark on all of their hearts. Should she really be burdening them all with this?

“I, uh, saw Zuko’s ghost yesterday.” Suki stills, Aang’s head snaps to look at her fully, Toph stops picking at her fingernails, and Sokka makes some sort of strangled, guttural noise. “I need...I need to know if you all can too.”

“Where is he?” Aang sounds years younger and so, so hopeful.

She nervously calls out. “Zuko?” He shows up in front of her immediately, just like he has every other time she called for him. He smiles at her and Katara thinks it’s strange that he has smiled more in death than he ever did amongst the living. He turns to face their friends and his smile grows.

When Katara looks at the group, Suki is squinting at a spot to the left of Katara - where Zuko is standing. “Suki? You can see him!” 

The warrior shakes her head remorsefully. “I’m trying, but I can’t see anything, Katara.”

“What? But- but you’ve seen spirits before. Right? Kyoshi’s spirit?”

“Yeah, I have. But I don’t see him.”

Katara swallows but the dryness in her throat doesn’t disappear. “Sokka? You’ve seen Yue. Do you see Zuko?” The spirit in question walks over to rest his hand on Toph’s shoulder. Sokka is looking around the room wildly.

“No, I don’t, Katara! Where is he? Where is he?” The waterbender bit her lip hard, wishing the physical pain would eclipse the emotional.

“Toph? You’ve always seen more than everyone else. Please…”

The young girl lets out a wail that brings tears to Katara’s eyes. When Toph runs out of the room, neither Zuko nor Katara do anything but look at her forlornly.

Katara turns to Aang, desperation coloring her voice. “You’re the Avatar. You’re half-spirit. You have to be able to see him!” Zuko crosses his arms from his new spot behind Sokka. Aang looks apologetic and younger than he ever has.

“Katara, I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. I really don’t see Zuko. I’m sorry. But I think you should get some rest, maybe-”

“No! I’m not losing it, I’m not! He’s right there,” she shouts, pointing at the spot where Zuko stands. Sokka gets up from his seat immediately, toppling over his chair and grasping at the air near him blindly. His hands catch on nothing.

Katara doesn’t know when she started shaking and crying, but she can’t stop. Suki tries to hold her, but she’s pushed away as Katara stumbles out of the room, trailed by a warmth she wishes she couldn’t feel.

* * *

A few hours later, she’s sitting in front of Iroh at his low tea table in the Fire Lord’s room. He has traveled to the Spirit World to find his other son. He had a deeper connection with Zuko than Katara ever did. More than anyone else, he should be able to see the spirit, if he really is one. 

When she asks, Iroh closes his eyes for a few moments. He then slowly looks around the room, his wrinkles getting more and more pronounced with every passing second. When he finally meets her eyes, she knows the answer before he even says it and drops her head into her curled hands. When Zuko speaks from his chosen spot on her left side, she doesn’t even flinch out of surprise. She can’t help but wonder at how she’s already gotten used to his ghostly presence.

“He looks so...old. So weathered.” She can’t stop herself from lifting her head up to look at him incredulously.

“And whose fault is that? If you hadn’t gone and died, you would have been Fire Lord and Uncle Iroh wouldn’t have lost another son!”

“Master Katara?” Katara glances at the Fire Lord, remembering that he was right there. He seems desolate and confused and she cannot maintain eye contact with him. She’s making this harder on him, isn’t she? How come everyone else is moving on and she’s stuck seeing phantasms? She turns back to Zuko, whose eyebrow is lifted and disappointment is evident in his features. The features that look very real, very alive, and not at all spirit-like.

“Leave me alone,” she growls, standing up. She stomps out of the Fire Lord’s office without a backward glance.

* * *

Now she stands in Azula’s room. This was an absolute last resort but Katara will not leave any stone unturned. The two fourteen-year-olds are engaged in a staring contest. Azula loses and she’s also the first to speak. But it’s not to Katara.

“Mother?” Katara’s chest tightens. _That’s something we have in common._ Their mother had passed away, hadn’t she? Just in case, she follows Azula’s gaze to a spot behind her, but nothing’s there, save for a mirror.

“She’s always looked a lot like Mom.” Katara whirls around to look at the older firebender and sees that his eyes are trained on his sister. He slowly walks over to the girl who delivered the last blow he would ever receive and kneels by her. “Hey there, Azula,” he whispers. Katara tilts her head to face the carpet - this feels entirely too personal, even if one participant in the interaction has no idea it’s happening.

“Peasant. Have you seen Zuzu?” Katara’s neck audibly protests when she twists it so quickly to stare at Azula.

“I have, yes. You see him too?” she asks with something akin to excitement. 

“I see him everyday,” Azula spits.

Zuko lets out a heavy sigh before Katara can say anything. “It’s not the same. She hallucinates sometimes. It used to be very, very rare but everything that happened recently must have tipped her over. She doesn’t really see me. Not like you do.” He smiles at her then, like it’s some great inside joke and not a fact that’s tearing her soul apart.

Azula’s voice rings out again. “It’s your fault he’s dead, you know.”

“My fault? How dare you? If you hadn’t shot that lightning at him-”

“At you. I aimed for you. And I wouldn’t have missed if it hadn’t been for my foolish brother. It’s all your fault!” She’s right. Azula’s right. It is her fault. How does she keep forgetting that? This must be her penance, then. Because of her, Zuko died and she has to pay for it by being haunted for the rest of her life. She hiccups and buries her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Azula. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sor-” She barely hears the voice breaking through her apologies.

“-always lies. Azula always lies, Katara. Come on. Let’s leave. It’s not your fault.”

“IT IS MY FAULT!” And she’s beating his chest, or at least she’s trying to, because her hands just end up passing through a warm air mass. “It is! You saved me, and you fought so hard, but I still couldn’t heal you! You held on for six days, trying not to die, and I still couldn’t heal you properly! Why? Why did you have to die? Why couldn’t I save you? I’m sorry, Zuko!” She faintly registers that Azula is crying too. Zuko’s ghost stands silently between the two girls who can say he died because of them, trying to hug one of them and staring sadly at the other.

* * *

She’s been in the Southern Water Tribe for six months now, helping to rebuild and taking care of Gran-Gran. Sokka and her dad aren’t always at the Southern Water Tribe, but she is, because she’s the only waterbender besides Pakku who can really construct buildings and infrastructure. And Pakku keeps disappearing into the depths of the South Pole for days at a time, in a manner she finds quite suspicious. She thinks it’s very ironic that, in a way, the most constant thing in her life is a spirit. Zuko has not left her side at all. He’s not always visible, but if she calls, he always shows up immediately. Despite the fact that she’s still not sure if she’s gone insane, she finds reassurance in his presence. 

That’s why tonight, deep in the middle of winter when the night never subsides and the darkness encompasses all, she calls out for Zuko. She doesn’t call out for him often anymore, since he’s just started to show up whenever he wants. Besides, she’d get more than just weird looks if she started saying the name of a boy everyone knows to be dead. But right now, the cold air and the lightlessness of her igloo scare her. That was never the case before she left with Sokka to follow Aang, but so much has changed since then. She knows Zuko can chase away that terror, so she says his name without hesitation. 

In barely half a second, he’s at her bedside, looking down at her. “Are you okay, Katara?”

Just at the sight of his faintly glowing form, she can feel the stress leaving her body. “Do you...do you think you could stay with me?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Just lie down. Stay in this bed. I’m cold and it’s dark and I’m a little scared,” she finishes in a breathy whisper. Zuko just stares at her for a very long minute before clambering into the bed besides her. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Then he tries to grasp her hand and she looks away, because it has become too painful to watch their attempts at touching be fruitless every time. But not this time.

This time, she feels a warm pressure on her hand and her breath is caught in her throat. Slowly, so that if it’s just a trick of the mind it has time to disappear, she turns to look at her hand. And when she sees that it’s covered by a much larger, paler hand, she exhales a cloud of frost.

“H-how?” She twists her head to look at Zuko, who is staring at their clasped hands with wide eyes.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know.” It occurs to Katara that since coming to the South Pole, they really haven’t tried to touch all that much. What was the point when they knew it would be futile? But here they were, unquestionably touching each other. She moves her hand up his arm and her breaths start coming out more quickly when the sensation of feeling Zuko doesn’t end. When her fingers reach his shoulder, she throws herself on top of him and buries her head into the space between his jaw and collarbone.

“Zuko! You’re alive, you’re alive! You are!” Part of her brain is telling her to quiet down lest she wakes up the whole village, but she cannot bring herself to care. He’s _alive_. He’s hugging her back, both of them leaving not even the tiniest sliver of space between them.

“Katara, I- I don’t think I’m alive.” This sentence doesn’t really register in her brain until a few seconds later, and when it does, she jerks her head up to look him in the eyes.

“What do you mean? I’m holding you right now.” She starts patting him all over - to find what, she doesn’t know.

“I know, but…” He trails off as her hand comes to rest over his chest. She knows what she was looking for now, but only because she didn’t find it. There’s no heartbeat.

“No.” She curves her fingers, seeking out the blood, but she doesn’t sense anything. There simply is no blood, or water, inside of him. There is nothing inside of him. The glow and warmth he’s emanating tells her Zuko’s still just a spirit, albeit one that is tangible now. But, she thinks, as she collapses onto his chest despairingly, she would take what she could get.

* * *

Her fifteenth birthday had been celebrated with all the pomp befitting a daughter of the Chief and a war hero. Katara had been born on the Winter Solstice - Pakku often tells her this is one of the reasons she’s so powerful. She always retorts that it’s because of her diligence, not her birthday, while Zuko looks on proudly.

Today, it’s Zuko’s birthday. He was born in the first month of the year, soon after the Winter Solstice. He tells her this is one of the reasons he was such a weak firebender. On top of that, his mother had a difficult pregnancy and there had been many terrible omens the day he was born, and all of this resulted Ozai telling him he was “lucky to be born.” She hugs him fiercely. She says he’s one of the strongest people she’s ever known. She tells him she’s the lucky one, for having been able to meet him at all. He cries, his head in her lap, for the first time since his passing. She cries too, because he won’t ever celebrate another birthday and now she’s not sure he even celebrated one while he was alive.

When Sokka walks in on Katara crying alone, with her hands moving in a circular motion a small distance above her lap, he says nothing. They all know what day it is. And when she comes out of her room with bloodshot eyes, telling him they’re going to dress up their village in red and throw a feast, just for this one day, he nods silently and gives her a tight hug that goes unreciprocated.

Katara is solemn the whole time she cooks and decorates the village and main plaza. Other villagers whisper behind her back, but she doesn’t know what they’re saying, and she doesn’t really care. All she can think of is a fearless, courageous boy turned spirit crying in her lap. Her resolve to have him celebrate the day he graced this world with his existence solidifies with every second.

That night, all the folk of Katara’s tribe gather around a huge bonfire and eat spicy foods while telling stories about the sun and everything he has sacrificed for his wife, the moon. Zuko cannot stop smiling and Katara cannot stop staring at him. He laughs along with the rest of her tribesmen, pretends to help pass along the platters of food, and puts his hands closer to the fire as if it will have an effect on him, and she is entranced. To Sokka and Aang, who has joined them for the night, it looks as though she’s frozen, looking off into the distance, but they don’t dare bother her.

When all the villagers retreat to their igloos, Katara is left standing in the center of the tribe, alone, save for a dying fire and a dead firebender. Zuko turns to her and holds her frigid hands in his own, warming them instantly.

“Thank you, Katara.” It’s a whisper, but she hears it perfectly.

“Did you like it?”

“It was perfect. It was more than anyone’s ever done for me. Except for maybe Uncle, he would always throw the biggest Music Night humanly possible,” he jokes, cracking a lopsided grin. She smiles too.

“You deserved a lot more, Zuko. You deserved to be seventeen today.”

“I’m happy with what I have,” he replies, pulling her in for a hug. She gently breaks away and begins the walk home. He doesn’t _have_ anything. And it’s all her fault.

* * *

A few months later finds Katara, Sokka, and Suki on the back of Appa, traveling the world with Aang once again. They’re heading to Gaoling to pick up Toph before they begin the “Tour of Peace”, as Sokka has dubbed it. Their main job is to create resolutions and settle arguments, especially those that crop up in the Fire Nation, since Iroh simply cannot find the time or energy to do so. 

Zuko shows up less often now that she’s constantly surrounded by her friends, and she’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. He’s also less tangible - when she reaches for him, most of the time her hand just slides right through his. She knows that’s not a good thing.

The group never speaks of him. But they never fail to leave his favorite spot at the back of the saddle open. When they notice their waterbender staring at the empty spot, they look away. Katara starts to feel bad that they’ll never know how Zuko sometimes sits in his usual place and stares at his friends. When she talks about this to him one night, he tsks at her.

“Do you really need to be taking on more guilt, Katara? It’s not your fault you have a special connection with my spirit.”

She folds herself into a ball and whispers so her friends won’t hear her talking to herself. “Why do I have this...special connection?”

He shrugs. “Beats me. I don’t mind. Do you?” What is she supposed to say with him smiling at her like that? That yes, sometimes she wishes he would disappear for good so that she could finally move on, like all their friends are close to doing? What kind of person is she? She doesn’t say anything, just smiles back at him and lays down on her bedroll.

“Good night, Zuko.”

“Good night, Katara.”

* * *

They’re in Caldera City, getting ready to celebrate the one year anniversary of the war ending. The word ‘celebrate’ has taken on such a venomous connotation in Katara’s head. What is there to celebrate? Nothing. She hates the festivities, she hates the happy smiles on everyone’s faces, she hates the people hailing her as a hero, and she hates herself most of all, for not being able to find joy in these clear displays of hope. Zuko loves it all, though. He leads her through the winding streets of his home city, showing her the places he used to love to visit and the foods that she just had to try. He nods approvingly everytime someone thanks her for stopping the war, and tries to punch one daring man who says no one wants a useless waterbender in the Fire Nation. She’s inclined to agree with him, actually - what good is all her bending if she couldn’t even use it to save Zuko? That doesn’t stop her from sending a tiny water whip towards the spiteful man.

She goes to visit Azula, and the fifteen-year-old looks no better than she had a year ago. She feels pity for the girl. Azula is dead to the world. Unremembered, uncared for, unloved. Zuko sits in front of his sister for a long while, just staring at her silently. When Zuko approaches Katara with something like nervousness on his face, she asks him what the matter is.

“Would you...how opposed would you be to healing Azula?”

She’s quiet for a few moments, processing what he has asked. “Heal her?”

“Yes. I hate seeing her like this, she’s still my baby sister, you understand, and remember you told me you were able to do something for Jet when the Dai Li brainwashed him? You could try to use waterbending on Azula too. It might work. I just think my mother would hate to know her daughter was neglected like this and you don’t have to-”

She interrupts his rambling. “Zuko. I’ll do it. Just...not right now, okay? I still need to practice my healing and- and there’s something else I want to do first.” He looks like he wants to argue, but concedes with a small nod.

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Katara. It means a lot to me.” She’s not really listening to him anymore. The moment he said “my mother”, she was transported to a conversation they had held in the middle of a night a few months ago.

_I don’t think I ever told you. My mother’s not dead._

_She’s not? But in Ba Sing Se, you said…_

_I know. I thought she had died. But I told you about confronting my- Ozai on the Day of the Black Sun, right? He told me then that my mother was only banished, not killed. So I suppose she could be dead by now, but I think I’d know. Seeing as how I’m also...a spirit._

_Right. Yeah, that makes sense._

_That was going to be the first thing I did after the war. Find her, I mean. I wanted to see her at least once more._

She pivots on her heel and starts heading towards where Ozai is kept prisoner.

“Where are we going, Katara?”

She tilts her head to face him. “You probably shouldn’t come with me, actually,” she says, her eyes shifting to his scar. Her fury at finding out his father did that to him at the age of thirteen had very nearly brought her igloo crumbling down around her.

He stops following her. “Why not?”

Not breaking her stride, she answers, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

When has he ever listened to her?

The moment she steps into the dark building where fugitives are kept, she feels the spirit’s warmth fade a little. He doesn’t try to talk her out of the impending confrontation though, and she’s thankful.

When she reaches Ozai’s cell, he’s lying down and she feels the urge to kick him. La knows he deserves much, much worse. Not for the first time, she wishes Aang had just killed him. She rattles on the metal bars forcefully.

“Wake up, bastard!” The ex-Fire Lord stutters a bit before sitting up and focusing his eyes on her. His skin is pale and his predatorial eyes are sunken. This is the first time she’s seeing him, and he’s as pathetic as she expected. “Listen here, Ozai. I have no patience for your bullshit. You are going to answer my questions clearly and truthfully, is that understood?”

Despite his state of existence, he manages to cough out an evil laugh. “And who are you, little girl, to order me around?” She clenches her jaw, and though the sun is high in the sky, she curls her fingers and seeks out his blood. With a simple twist of her wrists, Ozai is dragged to the front of his cell so that the only thing sparing him from a swift kick to the face are the bars. She relishes in the fear on his face.

“I am Katara, the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. Daughter of Kya and Hakoda. Friend to the Avatar, War Hero, Master Waterbender, healer, and...bloodbender. Defeater of Azula. And I will not hesitate to end you, should you piss me off anymore. Is. That. Clear.” She punctuates the last three words by banging his face against the metal.

“Ye-yes,” he manages to say, quivering.

“Good.” She releases her hold on him, letting him slump to the floor as she shakes her hands out. A tiny part wants to turn and see Zuko’s reaction, but he hadn’t judged her the first time she had bloodbended in front of him - why should that change in death? “So now, you pitiful excuse for a father. Where is Ursa?”

“Urs...Ursa?”

“Yes. You know, the person who was married to you and gave you a wonderful son? That lady? The one you banished? Where is she?”

“Why do you care?” Now, she does wedge her foot through the bars to kick him. It’s satisfying.

“Who do you think is the one asking questions here? All you think about is power, right? Who has the power here? Me. So answer my questions and don’t play games. Where is Ursa?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lie to me again and I will-”

“I’m not lying! I don’t know where she is! I told her to never show her face in the palace again. And then I sent assassins to her hometown, but they never found her there.” The warmth blazes behind Katara and she hears a whisper.

“He sent assassins after her? Fucking assassins?” She crouches down to look into Ozai’s eyes.

“What is the name of her hometown?”

“H-Hira’a.”

“What else do you know?”

“Nothing! I don’t know anything else about her!” She stands up, kicking him once more, just for good measure. Then she spins around and makes her way out of the building. She knows what her next mission is.

* * *

Despite Katara’s single-mindedness and determination, she doesn’t find Zuko’s mother for two years. False leads and well-intentioned but misinformed helpers lead her astray and run her ragged. But everytime she thought she was too tired or losing motivation, Zuko’s shining figure, which has actually aged just as she thinks it would if he was alive, would show up at her side, giving her strength she didn’t know existed. When she finally locates Ursa, hiding in the Northern Water Tribe no less, she moves across the frozen plains faster than she ever thought she could. She raises her hand to knock on the door and the spirit shows up at her side. She takes a second to notice that he looks more real than he has in a long time before banging on the door. It flies open immediately and a tall lady wrapped in multiple parkas looks at her with alarm.

“Is everything alright?”

She’s found her. She’s finally found her. “Ursa?” Her voice sounds strangled, but it’s drowned out, at least to her, by the sob of a son who’s seeing his mother for the first time in 8 years.

“How do you know my name?” Ursa has retreated so that she’s partially protected by her door, and she looks even more wary.

“I’m- my name is Katara. I helped end the war and OH!” Ursa has grabbed her shoulders to pull her into a crushing hug.

“I’ve heard of you,” the mother whispers, “thank you. Thank you for being there for Zuko.” The would-be nineteen-year-old is crying at the sight of his best friend and mother hugging and it is taking all of Katara’s self control to not burst into tears herself. How can this woman be holding her so tightly when she’s the reason Zuko’s dead and Azula’s gone insane? But she’s feeling a bit selfish right now, and Ursa’s embrace reminds her _so_ much of Kya’s, that she does end up weeping and holding the older woman so tightly she may as well be a raft saving Katara from the terrors of the dark sea.

The cold starts to nip at their cheeks and freeze their teardrops, so they take refuge inside Ursa’s humble home. Katara knows what she has to say now. Zuko has spent so many hours agonizing over what he wanted her to tell his mother when they found him, and once he perfected the speech, Katara had memorized it.

“Fire Lady Ursa. I would like to begin by saying that it is an honor to meet you, the person who raised my dearest friend. There are no words to describe how sorry I am that I could not save him.” Both Ursa and Zuko are shaking their heads in a way that’s so similar it almost makes her smile. “I am. But I have to tell you a few things that Zuko wanted- would have wanted you to know. He doesn’t blame you for leaving him. We- I learned that you left because Ozai threatened to kill Zuko and you put everything on the line for him. He doesn’t blame you for that. He also would have wanted you to know that Azula is getting help. Ozai’s bending has been taken away and Uncle Iroh is the Fire Lord, so you should consider returning home. He wants you to know…” And so this monologue continues for around an hour, with Katara saying all the things Zuko would never be able to with a little prompting from the boy whenever she got stuck. By the end, Ursa is bawling, apologizing to no one in particular, and saying that she’ll think about going back to the Fire Nation.

“Master Katara,” says Ursa as she composes herself and wipes her eyes dry, “I’m not sure how you were able to hear from my son, because everything you said truly does sound like something he would say, but could you please tell him that I love him? And I know he doesn’t blame me, but I am so, so sorry? I should have tried to bite back harder. Will you tell him that for me?” Katara’s not sure what that message means, but Zuko’s already heard it and is covering his face with his hands, so she nods.

“Of course, Ursa. Thank you for letting me speak to you today.”

“Please feel free to drop by anytime, Master Katara. I’d love to get to know someone so dear to Zuko better.” She gives her a smile full of warmth, and it tells Katara that everything she’s done these past two years has been worth it. She breathes out slowly and offers the mother a tentative smile in return.

As soon as Katara makes it back to her accommodations, Zuko grabs her waist. She’s so shocked by their proximity that she doesn’t even question how real it feels. “I’m going to kiss you now,” and even though he practically growls, it still ends sounding like a question, so she nods. She’s not sure why she does that, seeing as how he’s a spirit and spirits can’t kiss. But when his warm lips find her cold ones, every rational thought flies out the window. It feels strange and unearthly, yet simultaneously grounding and like the most familiar sensation ever, even more so than waterbending. She twines her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and his large hands cradle her head. The shortest, and somehow longest, moment of her life is spent in that embrace and as soon as it ends, it feels like Zuko’s taken her soul with him. His ghostly thumb skims over the curves of her face, and when it reaches her chin he murmurs, “thank you, Katara.” When he fades away, Katara tries to not overanalyze what just happened. Zuko was just overjoyed after finding his mother and he wanted to touch something again. Of course. There’s nothing more to it. There’s not allowed to be anything more to it - he’s still a spirit, after all.

They never speak of the kiss. Is there anything to say?

* * *

They’ve been in the Northern Water Tribe for half a year, so Katara could learn mind healing from Yugoda and spend time with Ursa. Katara’s also picked up a new vial of Spirit Water that always hangs around her neck. She catches Zuko staring at it sometimes and those moments are unspeakably painful, as they are a constant reminder of what-ifs and things that could have been. 

It’s Zuko’s birthday again, and Katara isn’t throwing a huge celebration. Just as she has for the past two years, she cooks his favorite foods, says a prayer for his soul, and learns a little more about his life. However, it’s a little different this time around, because his mother is here. They cook together, pray for his soul together, and laugh at all the silly things Zuko used to do together. Ursa gets a kick out of her son’s line, “You rise with the moon, I rise with the sun.” Katara nearly chokes on her laughter when she hears how Zuko used to pretend Azula’s dolls were the baby turtleducks’ parents. Zuko scowls and sighs dramatically in the background, all the while trying not to grin too big at two of the most important people in his life getting along.

The experience makes Katara feel more whole, more understood, even if Ursa isn’t able to see the spirit. Katara’s friends have dismissed it as a hallucination that happened once so many years ago, when they were in the midst of grieving. She hasn’t bothered to correct them, and she definitely doesn’t tell them she’s still in the midst of grieving. 

When Ursa leaves, shimmering arms wrap around Katara’s shoulders. “Thank you for doing this, Katara.” He thanks her too much, and she tells him so.

“You deserve all my gratitude. It feels like you’ve given up your whole life to do things for me. Who knows what you could have been if you hadn’t spent the last four years,” he pauses to wave one arm around at the small feast in front of her, “worrying about me? Looking for my mom and helping Uncle Iroh with the Fire Nation?” This upsets her and she turns around to face Zuko fully, throwing his hands off of her.

“Zuko, I can never repay what you did for me. You literally did give up your whole life for me! The absolute least I can do is find your mother, heal your sister, and help your uncle. And eventually, I will go back to helping Aang and healing more people, but I have to do all of this first.” He leans away from her, sitting on his knees.

“Oh. Right. So...it’s all just an obligation to you? Yeah, what am I saying, of course it is. Never mind.” She just gapes at him.

“An obligation? What on earth makes you think it’s an obligation, Zuko? There’s nowhere else I’d rather be or anything else I’d rather be doing! And I’m doing this because I care about you. I care about you so, so much and I spend every single day wishing you were still here. Alive. I miss you so much, Zuko, I miss you so much it physically hurts. I hate you too, you know? I hate you for leaving me here. How could you do that? Don’t you know how much I hate it when people leave me?” Everything she says after that deteriorates into indecipherable sobs and gasps. Zuko tries to wipe away her tears, but even though she can feel his warm fingers swiping at her cheeks repeatedly, the moisture doesn’t leave her face.

“I’m sorry, Katara. I’m sorry.” His constant apologies and her ceaseless wails intermingle as they press their foreheads together.

* * *

“Hey, Katara. Remember that time you were looking for ‘pots and pans’ at Ember Island?” His voice is teasing, and even though it’s been an exhausting day in the Fire Nation full of trying to secure Azula’s cooperation, she puts upon an insulted expression that contrasts wonderfully with her wide smile.

“I was!”

“Really? Even though we were leaving the next day and you wouldn’t have had to cook any more meals?”

“I- well- I just wanted to-”

“Right, yeah, sure. I get it, Katara. You’re nosy.”

“I am _not_ nosy!”

“That’s what nosy people say. Admit it, you were snooping around for baby pictures of me.”

“Nope. Didn’t happen.”

He laughs. “You’re an awful liar.”

“Oh, like you’re any better?”

“I know how to lie!”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I- okay, not the point. You know how my looks have matured with time, even as a spirit?” He strokes a nonexistent beard, as if to accentuate his point. She buckles over with laughter.

“You don’t have a beard, Zuko! And thank La for tiny miracles!” Zuko crosses his arms and scowls at her.

“Do you want to see the surprise or not?”

“Ooh, surprise? What is it, what is it?”

He smirks and then suddenly he’s shrinking and his hair is growing longer. Then it grows even shorter, until it’s just a tuft on a baby’s head. Katara squeals.

“Tiny Zuko! You look so cute!” The baby babbles when she picks him up and wiggles around as she coos at him, and she’s extremely glad he’s started to be more solid recently. “Who’s a cute little baby? That’s right! Yes, you are!” After a few minutes of this, Zuko starts to grow heavier and taller so she sets him down and kneels so she’s level with him.

“Hi, Zuko,” she croons in a sugary voice.

“Stop using that stupid voice with me, waterbender. I can still understand you, you know.”

“Oh, right.” She smiles and leans back a little. “How old are you now?

“12.” The smile fades and she gulps. This tiny child, this adorable child, with the sun in his eyes and light in his smile, was ordered to be killed? And then a year later, his father would look at him and be able to scar him and banish him? As she has become prone to doing around Zuko’s spirit, she begins to cry. 

“Don’t cry, Katara! I thought you’d like it!” She sobs harder at the sound of his innocent voice pleading with her. She reaches out to hold him close.

“How could anyone hurt you? How? You’re so good, and strong, and brave, Zuko! I love you so much. I wish I could take away all your pain.” Zuko’s tiny hands are moving in circles over her back, and for a moment, they still. She takes that pause as a chance to reach behind her and catch his hands. She gently kisses each digit before placing his small fists over her eyes in a manner that feels almost ritualistic.

“Katara?” His high voice sounds puzzled, but she doesn’t feel like explaining anything, doesn’t think she _can_ , so she just shakes her head and keeps his hands over her closed eyes.

* * *

It takes about a year before Azula can be declared mentally stable and fit for society. Katara’s not sure how she feels about those labels, she’s really leaning towards distaste, but she supposes her feelings on the subject don’t really matter. The fact that Azula feels good in her skin again is one of the waterbender’s greatest achievements. She’s aware of the irony.

She has learned more about herself, Azula, and even Zuko in this past year than she had in the previous eighteen years of her life. She learned that her waterbending could not fix everything, no matter how powerful she was, and sometimes people just needed to be listened to. She learned that healing does not happen on a timeline - it doesn’t happen on a line at all, and that there is progress in what seems like regression. She learned that Azula and Zuko had been as close as her and Sokka before their awful father started pitting the family against each other, and she remembered how much she misses her own brother. She learned that all Azula ever wanted was her mother’s love, and the reunion between mother and daughter is a heartbreaking, yet still hopeful, one. She craves her mother’s love too.

If five years ago, someone had told Katara that she would be encouraged by the idea of Azula being next in line for the Fire Nation’s crown, she would have sent multiple water whips hurtling their way. But today, with both Zuko and Ursa at her side grinning at the youngest member of their family, she breathes a sigh of relief. Her work here is done. Still, she feels unfulfilled, and she thinks it’s because of something she figured out recently.

Her vial of Spirit Water is nearly empty.

Zuko’s spirit has become much fainter.

When she was at the Water Tribes or had the Spirit Water with her, his spirit would become tangible. This correlation makes sense, but there’s still so much she doesn’t understand. There’s no Spirit Oasis in the South Pole, so why was Zuko affected? Why is she the only one who can see and sometimes feel him? Why is he the only spirit she can see? She has spent many lonely nights in the royal library - lonely because she didn’t want Zuko nearby when she researched these topics - where she scoured books looking for stories similar to hers. To her great disappointment, there was no precedent for her situation. But in a few days, she will be with Aang again, traveling the world looking for issues to fix and Air Nomads in hiding, and she figures she’ll have many more opportunities to research along the way. 

* * *

She hates her 21st birthday. Well, maybe hate is a strong word. And maybe it’s not just her 21st birthday, because this has been ongoing since she agreed to date Aang nearly 18 months ago.

Zuko’s stopped showing up.

Not completely, but he isn’t there every second of every day and, never mind, she _hates_ it. It wasn’t that long ago that she had wished he would disappear forever so she could miss him properly and move on. But now, every moment that he’s not there feels dull and lonely. 

She feels guilty for thinking this way, though. Because Aang is right there. And everytime he lays next to her in bed, she wonders why she prefers the warmth of a dead person over that coming from someone who’s alive. Everytime they kiss, Katara has to reprimand herself for remembering the time _he_ kissed her in the North Pole. It’s tearing her apart.

So when he shows up in her room in the Ba Sing Se inn they’re currently staying at, muttering an unenthusiastic, “Happy birthday,” she lets it loose.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He looks up from his fidgeting fingers and Katara’s breath catches at how much older he looks. More refined. He’s - well, he would have been - turning 23 in a few weeks. “Wrong with me?” he echoes.

“Yes! You don’t- you don’t show up anymore. Just for a few seconds here and there. What happened?”

“I’ve been...busy.” A beat.

“Busy? Have you picked up a job as a tea server in the Spirit World?” His customary scowl makes an appearance.

“As if. I’ve just been doing things. And I also wanted to leave you alone,” he says, scratching his chin.

“Leave me alone? What on earth made you think I wanted to be left alone?”

“Well, it’s a bit awkward to just tag along with you and Aang everywhere. And, I mean. It didn’t exactly seem like you needed me anymore.”

“Didn’t need you anymore? Of course I nee-”

“Let’s not. Let’s not talk about this right now. Please.” Her jaw clenches.

“Fine.”

“Thank you. Now, there’s something I wanted to tell you. I’ve been in the Spirit World more, meeting with other spirits, and...I saw your mother.”

“What? You- you saw her? What did she say? What did she tell you?” She’s stumbling over to the apparition, trying to grasp his collar so he can’t disappear before he tells her everything. He tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear and smooths the frizz on top of her head. The pressure is comforting, but it doesn’t distract her.

“She told me to tell you that she is so, so proud of you. She thinks it’s the greatest honor to have you as her daughter. She’s amazed everyday by the strong person you have grown into, the fierce master waterbender title you have claimed, the beautiful woman you are.” His hand comes to cup the left side of her face and she nestles into the cozy warmth. “She said to remind you that you should never doubt your worth, because you really are one of the greatest people to live and everyone knows it. The history books will be saying that for years to come. She wants to tell you that her death is not your fault. At all. And the way you grew up so quickly to take care of your family made her very sad, and she’s sorry she left you to that. She still loves you so much and she’s always, always with you.” 

For once, Katara isn’t the one crying first, although she’s very close to tears. She never knew spirits could cry, but there are transparent, glistening trails of something making their way down Zuko’s face. She realizes that while the words are without a doubt Kya’s, the passion and conviction behind them is all Zuko’s. She throws her arms around his neck and tucks her head under his jaw. Once upon a time, he used to be short enough for her to rest her head on his shoulder in this position. She tries not to think about how his corpse is still that height. She would rather stay in this moment, with Zuko’s arms holding her tight, small kisses and ghostly tears dropping into her hair.

* * *

* * *

Beyond the afterlife, life had gone on. Sokka and Suki had gotten married and were expecting their first child. Toph had opened her first metalbending academy. Azula had worked with Aang to settle arguments about Fire Nation colonies and had started dating Ty Lee. Aang had become a beacon of hope, beloved by all, and had found a few Air Nomads that had gone into hiding who were helping him rebuild the temples and culture. Katara had started a waterbending school in the Southern Water Tribe, extending invitations to any interested girls in the Northern Water Tribe, and had enlisted the help of some of Yugoda and Pakku’s students to act as teachers when she wasn’t around.

However, most of her time had been spent at the Southern Air Temple, acting as counselor to Aang and caterer to the Air Acolytes. She was ecstatic to help her best friend put his culture back together, but she often felt like she just wasn’t doing enough. She wanted to be out there, fighting evil and healing the sick. She wanted to be making change and she wanted to be doing that now. She also had never found the answers she needed about Zuko’s spirit and her connection with it. But how selfish would it be to run out on her friend - boyfriend - when he needed her most?

And then she had gotten engaged. It seemed like the natural progression of things, the right thing to do. When she had asked for Zuko’s opinion, he had shrugged and said no one should make her do anything she didn’t really want to. The thing was, she did want to do this. She wanted to be at Aang’s side while he brought peace to this war-torn world. She just didn’t know if she wanted to be at his side as his wife.

Not until a few seconds ago had she realized how wrong that was. Why was she dooming them both to a marriage she hadn’t even mentally committed to? And part of her wants to feel bad for running out on him like this, but just as Zuko had said, she needs to do what makes her happy. For once, she needs to do something for herself. And she already knows what that will be.

* * *

Once again, she is surrounded by white and light blues. Zuko had told her a while ago that white is the Fire Nation’s color of mourning. Right now, she finds that quite fitting.

Katara’s not perfectly sure why she’s here. It’s not really a hunch - more like an educated guess that brought her to the Southern Water Tribe. The first time she found out she could touch Zuko’s spirit was here, so she thinks it makes sense that she might find the answers as to why that happened here too.

What doesn’t make sense is the scene that meets her eyes when she throws open the door to Pakku’s igloo. From his place at her side, Zuko voices her thoughts before she can.

“Uncle Iroh? What are you doing here?” It’s not until a few moments of awkward silence pass that she realizes no one heard Zuko besides her.

“Fire Lord Iroh! What a surprise to see you here!”

“Master Katara, dear. I daresay it is a greater surprise to see you here, what with your wedding in two days. Pakku and I were just about to leave for the Air Temple.”

“Ah. Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to tell you the wedding’s canceled.”

“Canceled? What do you mean ‘canceled’? How does the Avatar feel about that?” Katara narrows her eyes at her step-grandfather who has just entered the room as Zuko huffs in annoyance behind her.

“Aang will be fine. I decided that I’m not getting married, and that’s that.” Pakku makes to say something, but wisely decides against it and sits down with Iroh at a low table.

“Of course, Katara. So is there another reason you’re here today? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but-”

Katara interrupts the waterbending teacher. “Yes, actually. And Fire Lord Iroh, it’s great that you’re here too. Do you...do you remember, eight years back, when I asked you if you could see Zuko’s spirit?” The monarch sets his teacup down gingerly before speaking in an uncharacteristically somber voice.

“Yes. I do remember.” Katara nods and turns to tell Pakku what she’s referring to, but he holds up a hand.

“No need, Katara. Fire Lord Iroh has already told me.” Right. She had forgotten about the Order of the White Lotus.

“Okay, well, I can still see him. And before you say it, I’m _not_ hallucinating. His spirit is right here. And I noticed that I’m actually able to touch him when I’m near Spirit Water. Or when I’m in the South Pole. I’m not sure why it happens, but I was hoping I could find some answers from you guys.” Years of combat training and living in a world where many people were out to get her had conditioned her to notice suspicious changes in behavior and body language - like Pakku stiffening and sharing a covert glance with Iroh. Her mind is whirling, but unable to jump to any substantial conclusions.

Fire Lord Iroh is the first to speak. With a gentle tone, he begins, “Katara, dear. When you hear what we have to say next, please, please do not be mad. Don’t do anything rash.” Zuko mutters impatiently besides her.

“Just tell me already.” To hell with respecting one’s elders, if they don’t spit out whatever they’re hiding in the next two seconds, she will freeze them to the walls of this igloo and force it out of them.

“We have preserved Prince Zuko’s body.” A drop of water falls onto her hair.

“What? But I was there, at the cremation!” Her voice is a choked whisper, but Iroh hears her and shakes his head.

“A fake ceremony, to keep up appearances. No body was offered to Agni that day.”

“Why?” The question escapes Zuko and her at the same time and they look at each other. If the elders think it’s strange when Katara glances at thin air, they don’t mention it.

“We hoped that there would be a way to save him. We think there is.” The igloo turns to slush around them.

“Katara! You must have control over your emotions!”

“See if I care! Why on earth would you wait so long before telling me there’s a way to save him?” Zuko is trying to get her attention, but she’s completely tuning him out. Iroh moves towards her, palms held out in an appeasing manner.

“You must understand-”

“Don’t beat around the bush!” She doesn’t even notice the tiny snowstorm gaining traction around her.

“I will not. It’s not really saving him, per se, he’s certainly dead. But we think we have found a way to retrieve him.”

“And? What is it?”

* * *

They’re standing outside an unassuming ice building, far beyond the boundaries of the tribe Katara grew up in, waiting for Pakku to complete the ritual that will unlock the door. She never even knew this area existed, but that’s not the foremost thought in her mind right now.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about this years ago,” she grumbles. “I could’ve brought him back a long time ago and saved us all some heartache.” Iroh looks at her sympathetically.

“Trust me, Master Katara, I really did want to tell you. But then you stopped talking about the spirit and we thought...well, we thought you had hallucinated him in the first place. So we started searching for other people who may have had a spirit connection with him. It began to seem like a lost cause, especially because it’s not the kind of thing you can just put up posters about.”

She nods reluctantly. She has gotten a lot of the answers she wanted, but no one seems to understand why she has a spiritual connection with Zuko. Pakku hypothesized that it had to do with his sacrifice for her, and that was the best guess they had, so they decided it was something best left up to greater powers.

When they enter the South Pole’s Spirit Oasis, it feels like Katara’s soul has settled in her body after a tiring journey. Zuko, whose hand had been on her shoulder this whole time, suddenly disappears. Iroh sees her panicking and somehow figures out what must have happened.

“I believe there is nothing to worry about. In this holy place, there is simply no way for Zuko’s soul to resist the pull of the Spirit World and so he’s been absorbed, so to speak. It will not impact your mission.” Her mission. Right.

Dive into the Spirit World. Find the God of Death, Yama. Do _something_ to get him to join Zuko’s spirit and body once again. Come back to the land of the living. It’s the _something_ that she hasn’t quite figured out yet. But, she thinks, she’ll get there when she gets there.

Iroh and Katara follow Pakku over to the large Spirit Oasis in the middle of the building. It looks much like its sister in the North Pole, but without the fancy additions of trees and bridges. It’s simple and elegant. Katara notices a block of ice suspended in the middle of the air and walks over to it. Her gasp when she sees what’s inside echoes off the frosty walls.

It’s Zuko’s dead body. But not the one that made eye contact with her before exhaling for the last time and falling back on his bed that fateful day eight years ago. No, this body belongs to a man who is 24 years old. And he still has both of his scars. Is that because Spirit Water needs to actually work with chi when it heals the body? When she turns to Pakku with a questioning look, he has only a shrug to offer her.

“The properties of Spirit Water,” he says, with an upsetting amount of nonchalance. She turns away from the corpse, swallowing her concerns. She walks to the edge of the pool of Spirit Water and stares at her reflection for a few moments. In all honesty, she has no idea what’s about to happen. Iroh has told her, from past experience, that some spirits will try to distract her and keep her amongst them. She must keep her wits about her and focus on her task. She has the ability to succeed, he had said, even though no one else has before. Her dedication and love would ensure her triumph. 

Despite everything, she had blushed fiercely when he said the word “love.” But that’s what this was, right? The overwhelming need to have the complement to your soul with you at all times? The feeling of being understood without ever even having to say a word? The conviction that there is nothing, nothing at all, she wouldn’t do for him? If that wasn’t love, she wasn’t sure what was.

Iroh’s soft cough brings her out of her reverie. She nods at the two men, touches her mother’s necklace, closes her eyes, and dives into the Oasis.

* * *

He looks exactly as Gran-Gran used to describe him. Yama is dark-skinned and regal, sitting on a ferocious bull with perfect posture, with his back to Katara. A cloud of darkness surrounds him, but she cannot find it in herself to be scared. She’s faced much worse during her journey - a spirit who reminded her of her every shortcoming, a spirit disguised as her mother telling her it’s time to stay in the Spirit World, a spirit who showed her a grim future in which everyone she loved died too soon. She had fought them all off. She wasn’t going to let this spirit be her undoing, no matter how powerful he may be.

She observes him from a distance, taking note of the spirits tied to the back of his bull. Her mother must be in there somewhere. She shakes her head. Her goal is clear; she is only here for Zuko. As Yama travels through the plains of the Spirit World, Katara follows him. Not so close that her presence is obvious, but also not so far that he couldn’t turn around and see her if he so desired.

After a few minutes, he does just that. “You are not dead,” are his first words to her. She takes a few long strides so that she is almost at his side and shakes her head.

“No, I am not.”

“Why are you here, young girl?"

“You have something I want.” He stares at her curiously for a second before speaking.

“You want me to return a soul to the land of the living, then.” It’s not a question, but she nods anyway.

“Yes. The soul of the Fire Nation’s Prince Zuko.”

“I know of no royalty in the Spirit World besides myself, the moon, and the sun. When I collect them, they are just souls, regardless of the house they were born into,” he says, gesturing to his collection of spirits.

“Of course. Still, I have no doubt that you know which soul I am referring to.” He smiles at this, and to Katara’s surprise, it’s not a malicious smile.

“I do. It’s a soul that escapes me often to stand by your side. It would be touching if I cared.”

“So if you don’t care about his soul, can’t you just send it back to the land of the living permanently?”

“What you ask for is impossible. I don’t care much about his soul, but I do care about the balance of the universe, and I cannot simply send souls back to their mortal bodies.”

“You must!” Yama raises an eyebrow.

“Give me one good reason ‘I must.’”

Katara thinks for a moment. “In the Water Tribes, they say that two people who walk seven steps together are friends. We’ve definitely walked seven steps together at this point. And wouldn’t friends do anything for each other?” He looks at the path behind her, as if counting exactly how many steps he walked with her trailing him.

A chuckle escapes the God of Death. “Certainly. However, I am not a god of the Water Tribes.” She scans his garments.

“Of course not. You’re not a god of the Fire Nation, or even the Air Nomads or Earth Kingdom, for that matter. Death is impartial and universal.” At this, a brilliant smile lights up his face and he alights from his bull.

“You are truly wise, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. I haven’t had such verbal stimulation in years. In return, you may ask for any one thing of me.” She opens her mouth immediately, but he cuts her off. “Anything besides returning your beloved’s soul.” Her mouth snaps shut again as her mind races. What could she say to get around this?

“In that case, here’s what I request. In six years, I would like to bear Zuko’s child - the one that will be the heir to the Fire Nation.” Yama just stares at her, seemingly dumbfounded.

After a drawn-out stretch of silence, a grin returns to Yama’s face. “You have outwitted the god of death,” he says with no small amount of awe. “Your wish will be granted.”

She tilts her upper body to bow to him out of pure gratitude. “Thank you, Lord Yama.” He nods at her before hoisting himself up onto his escort and riding away from her.

* * *

When she returns to the Spirit Oasis, Iroh and Pakku are looking at her expectantly.

“Well? It’s been nearly 12 hours. Did you succeed?” The glare she shoots her step-grandfather makes him quail. She runs over to Zuko’s body, melting the block of Spirit Ice that holds him faster than she’s ever waterbended anything in her life. His body falls limply to the ground and she kneels besides him, overcome with a sense of deja vu. She shakes his shoulders desperately.

“Zuko? Zuko! Wake up!” _If that god tricked me, I swear…_

Before she can finish her threat, Zuko begins to hack and cough loudly. He splutters up water and Katara helps bend the rest out of his mouth and nose. He blinks up at her, dazed for a moment, before recognition floods his eyes. “Katara!”

A whimper passes through Katara’s lips before she throws herself on top of him. “Zuko!” Just as she had so many years ago in the Southern Water Tribe, she places her hand over his heart. This time, however, she feels the blood flowing through his body and shouts with relief. “You’re alive! You really are, Zuko!”

“Yes,” he laughs, “I really am. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Katara.”

“Thank _you_ for coming back to me. Zuko. Zuko,” she says, grabbing both sides of his face, “I love you.” Mirroring her actions, his hands come up to cup both sides of her face. His touch is as warm as she remembers it to be, and it’s real. It’s all real. There’s no question of hallucinations now.

“I love you too, Master Katara.”

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He nods and she dives in. It’s even better than she remembers, because his lips are definitely there. And there’s no sense of frantic desperation this time, just pure love. Best of all, when they pull apart, he doesn’t fade away.

“Well, as touching as this is…” Zuko twists his head and ignores Pakku’s snark.

“Uncle!” Even from here, Katara can see the tears glistening in the Fire Lord’s eyes. She realizes that this time, he was actually able to get his son back, and that must be affecting him greatly. She gets off of Zuko and stands up, before reaching out to help him stand. He’s a little wobbly, but she guesses eight years inside a block of ice will do that to a person. She assists him with walking all the way until he’s able to throw himself into his uncle’s waiting arms.

“I missed you so much, dear nephew.”

“I know, I know, Uncle. I missed you too.” Katara doesn’t think there’s anyone in that room who isn’t sobbing at that point.

* * *

Zuko’s reinstatement as the Crown Prince and coronation as the Fire Lord happen simultaneously. Uncle Iroh had been only too happy to abdicate in favor of his beloved nephew, and by some grace, the people of the Fire Nation had been happy to accept “spirit magic” as an explanation for why Zuko was even alive. 

The reunions between Zuko and his mother, as well as Zuko and Azula had left everyone crying rivers. When Zuko had met Team Avatar again, he had opened with “Hello, Zuko here. But I guess you already knew that.” That earned him a bone-crushing hug from Sokka and Toph. Aang had run into Zuko, already sobbing and saying how happy he was to have his Sifu Hotman back. And Zuko had been overjoyed to say hello to Suki and her child, stating that Uncle Zuko was going to be her favorite.

Aang takes the blossoming relationship between two of his teachers with grace, saying that he had always sensed something there and he was glad he hadn’t gotten in between it.

But Katara’s favorite moments are the silent ones she spent with Zuko. The moments in their bed, in the streets of Caldera City, in each other’s arms. She finds strength in those embraces. During a quiet morning on Zuko’s balcony, Katara decides it’s time for her to have a little fun.

“I wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl.”

“Huh?” asks Zuko, a little distracted.

“You know, our child. Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

“Our-our what now? We- we haven’t even...have we?” She tries so hard to contain her laughter, but at the sight of a flustered Zuko choking on his tea, she fails. “What are you laughing about? Please explain!”

“I had to play word games with Yama to get you back.”

“That clears up absolutely nothing, Katara!”

“Well, the main gist of it is that he said I could wish for anything I wanted, besides bringing you back to life. So I told him that in six years, I wanted to give birth to your child.”

Zuko’s cheeks go tomato red in half a second. “Oh- oh. So you- I see. Yeah. That makes sense. Nice. Good. That’s great.” She’s having fits of laughter now, seeing Zuko be so uncomfortable.

“Wasn’t that intelligent of me, Zuko?”

He nods quickly and forcefully. “Yes. Yes, very intelligent.”

“You know, no one’s happier than me that you’re alive again, but I am going to miss seeing baby Zuko. And having you show up whenever I call.”

“Well, I’m sure my mother and Azula would be more than happy to show you my baby paintings and tell you the accompanying embarassing stories. And,” he adds, kissing her forehead, “I’ll still always be there when you call. I promise.” She makes a sound of contentment and burrows into his side.

“Good. That makes me very happy.” It’s true. For the first time in eight years, she is truly happy.

**Author's Note:**

> this was not supposed to have a happy ending (you may have noticed, but just the ending is inspired by Savitri's story from Hindu scriptures). this was also supposed to just be 100 words, but it's a 21-page long google doc. so.  
> it also wasn't proofread at all, so if you catch any errors, please let me know.  
> I would love to hear your thoughts, good or bad! Leave a comment below or chat with me on [tumblr](https://thebluesunflower44.tumblr.com/) :)  
> thanks for reading!


End file.
